The Greatest of All Time
by i.amazonian
Summary: Because sometimes, even Sherlock Holmes has to bow down to the king. [Part of the 3-a-day challenge]


The Greatest of All Time

* * *

Sherlock rolls his eyes, annoyed at the pathologist who is currently so obviously trying to leave the lab as quickly as possible. The petite woman is now blazing through cleaning and tidying up and Sherlock takes it as almost a personal insult, considering he is _still _using his microscope.

Well, the laboratory microscope he's long claimed to be his, anyway.

"Molly." his voice booms inside the closed space. "Stop rushing. If he doesn't wait for you, he isn't worth it." The hint of casual disapproval in his voice does well to hide the jealousy he would never admit he's feeling.

Molly, for her part, doesn't take it sitting down. "It _is_ the end of my shift, Sherlock…"

"But I still need you here. I don't think you are so blind as to not notice that I am still, indeed, using the laboratory of which you are in charge."

"Uhm, Mike is going to pass by here for some inventory soon." she assures him, before she pauses and looks at him with an _I know you're just being a prick but I'm too kind to actually show you too much displeasure _expression on her face. "Besides, you're just looking at some old slides. I'm not sure where the _needing me_ part comes in."

The detective groans, frustrated, looking at Molly before making his deductions. _Not acting too shy: new man isn't making her too uncomfortable. Still showing signs of nervousness: either new man is a bit out of her league or she's still unsure of the man's opinion on her. Shopping list includes ice cream: they're probably going to spend the date in her flat. Possibly the night. _He doesn't acknowledge the blinding rage he feels at the thought. _She's already bringing the man into her flat without even knowing for sure how he feels about her? She appears giddy but she's trying to tone it down, probably because she knows that romantic dates are pathetic things to be giddy about. Foot mannerism: she's been waiting for this all day, possibly two days… She's really excited. _He narrows his eyes. "Who is he?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Who is so important that you'd leave _me _alone in _your _laboratory? It's so obvious that even you know that there is an inevitable end to your relationship with this random person, judging by your almost braced demeanor, but it's not stopping you from hoping for something still. I don't know what you're trying to achieve here, but—"

"Roger."

"What?"

"His name is Roger. He's the most elegant, smartest, most suave, most brilliant, sexiest man I've ever seen do what he does. The reason I'm so excited to see him is because I've loved him for years, years I tell you, and I've actually in some way betrayed my own country because of him. I'm sure _you_ understand that, betraying your own nation because someone impressed you just too damn much. He's the best, you know. He's not just some random person, he's the greatest. Ever. And nothing anyone can say will ever make me think otherwise."

Sherlock Holmes is floored. From the complete confidence in her voice, her seemingly unwavering faith in the man, to the sheer insistence of her words and the meaning they contain, it almost causes a flood in Sherlock's mind palace. Who is this man? This man who has completely captivated _his _pathologist, too much to the point that she's bringing up the small blip he made in the past because of Irene Adler, the man who apparently now eclipses him. The man she _loves_, has loved for years. Isn't that supposed to be him?

Without a response from the detective, Molly places the last of the test tubes on the shelf, making her way to the door hurriedly as she speaks. "So if you'll excuse me just this once, I'd like to go change, buy my ice cream and make it home before play opens on Arthur Ashe."

Sherlock raises his eyebrow. _Arthur Ashe? _"Who's Arthur Ashe?"

She chuckles; of course Sherlock knows nothing about American tennis. "Arthur Ashe was a tennis player. The main stadium at the U.S. Open is named after him."

Now Sherlock really is confused. Is Molly mocking him? He rummages around his mind palace for anything to help him understand what she's saying. US, greatest ever, tennis, Roger… _Roger? _A case once brought him to the All England Club and he knows he's seen that name before... "Federer?"

"Yes, Sherlock, Federer. Now seriously, can we just talk tomorrow? He's taking on Mannarino tonight and while he did win all their previous matches, Roger's form has been quite shaky lately and it's making me nervous just thinking about it." she rattles on as she grabs her bag to go to the locker room.

"Wait. You've betrayed England for him?"

She looks at him sheepishly. "Well, I root for him no matter who his opponent is. Last year at Wimbledon, it was him against Andy Murray for the championship. I couldn't help it, I was secretly on Switzerland's side for that one."

Sherlock watches her rush out the door, and he makes a mental note to learn more on whatever the hell Molly was yapping about. _She thinks he's more brilliant than I am? Unacceptable._

* * *

Note: Please forgive the obvious love of the author for the legendary Roger Federer.


End file.
